Yesterday, while visiting Adam’s soccer class in al-Askar camp, a little boy threw a rock at me. It hit me hard in the shoulder. I turned around expecting to see a mischievous young boy laughing at his own aggressive, little joke. But the boy was not smiling. With a haunting intensity, he snarled a string of vicious words at me. I do not speak Arabic, but I did understand one word:

“Israel.”

I have spent almost a month here in Nablus, and this was the first time anything even remotely hateful has happened to any of us from Students of the World. Yes, every day at TYO we see saddening evidence of conflict in all its forms: in problematic home life, dismal living situations in the camps, and the regional conflict. But the children, the staff, the people here in Nablus have been so warm, so welcoming, so inspiring. Smiles and kind words have filled every moment of my stay here. The unwavering dedication to the preservation of childhood in TYO’s offices, the respectful exchanges in the streets, and the children wanting to play in the expanses of TYO’s halls—these will be my cherished memories of Nablus.

The rock hit me yesterday. Today, little Farida hugged me and called me her friend. Today, Suhad, TYO’s psychosocial specialist, held a focus group with five kids who, once shy and silent, talked energetically about their dreams. Today, the rowdy boys in Kelsey’s art class held up their artwork while smiling broadly, proud that they had created something.

And yet my shoulder still hurts as I type this. So does my ankle from the moment that I turned to skulk away from that boy. It reminds me that the fabric of Nablus is still tenuous despite the strength I see every day in the children at TYO and the staff that welcomes them into the classrooms. And it reminds me how important TYO is to Nabulsi youth, and what is at stake in this small city.